Here I am

By Philippa Hawker

June 2, 2011 — 12.00am

(M) Selected cinemas (87 minutes)

QUIETLY, and with an unobtrusive grace, Here I Am explores harsh truths, everyday realities and intimations of change. At its centre is the figure of Karen (Shai Pittman), a young Aboriginal woman who has just come out of jail to begin anew.

Shai Pittman plays Karen, who has just come out of jail.

We don't learn a great deal about what brought her to that point: late in the film, there's a photograph of her that we see, briefly, that suggests what sort of state she might have been in. And she has a fleeting encounter, early on, with the world of drugs she has left behind. The focus, however, in writer-director Beck Cole's debut feature, is not on the past - yet it presses on people's lives, that's clear.

We get an inkling - often without specific details - of the painful impact of loss and separation on several of the film's characters. And history looms large in Here I Am in a very specific way: Karen's mother, Lois (Marcia Langton) has been looking after Karen's young daughter during her time in jail, and she has no intention of letting Karen back into her child's life.

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Pittman has a wonderfully eloquent presence, particularly when the camera contemplates her in close-up. Karen is a solitary, often introspective figure, but she's embedded in a clearly defined context, visually and emotionally. There's a solid, beguiling sense of place in the film: of the streets and urban landscapes of Port Adelaide, and of the atmosphere of Temple House, a women's shelter, where Karen goes to live after her jail term. There's a lovely comic energy to these scenes: Pauline Whyman, in particular, embodies, every moment she's on screen, an enveloping, effortless warmth.

As Karen struggles to redefine her life and convince her implacable mother that she has changed, Here I Am, in its final stages, makes some intriguing decisions about narrative and certainty. There's something quite refreshing, and also, in its own way, challenging, about where it leaves us, and what it tells us about individual choices and hopes for the future.